Why are they keeping me here? Alastor thought to himself with a melancholy feeling in the pit of his stomach. What did I ever do to them? Alastor's family had never had any trouble maintaining peace with with the men in the castle before, in their small hilltop hut atop the hill with the other families. Alastor missed those days, but those comforting thought soon lulled him to sleep.
One day he had been enjoying a rather routine morning breakfast when he had suddenly a loud crack from just outside the diminutive domicile. "Stay back Alexandra," Alastor's father told his wife with rough concern, "Methinks that the humans are at it again." And so they were, taking their sharpened metal sticks to the males of the small village, and walking away with the mother hoisted over their backs. Alastor wasn't sure what they were doing to the other children, but an earsplitting shriek may have given him an answer. "Ally! Get back!" his mother precautioned,"Now!" The men had taken sight of his family and there were three of them, with their metal sticks in hand, holding them ever their heads in a threatening fashion. Alastor froze with panic. what was he going to do? But as the charging men came down upon him, he caught a glimpse at lightning quick white blur bounding at the enemy with supernatural speed. In a moment, the four men were tangled in a battle, with their blades glinting brightly in the warm Autumn sun.
But the battle was over as quickly as it had started, the men lying in a widening pool of liquid crimson. "Daddy-" Alastor began, "Not now Ally," his father cut in, running over his words. His long, sharpened nails, more like claws really, were red with the blood of the men that they had slain. "Hurry back into the house with your mother-" but that thought went unfinished as his face went blank, his eyes wide open. He fell forward, face first, so that there was a blade revealed, sticking out of his back. "D-D-Dad?" Alastor stammered out his words curiously, "Daddy!" But the father would not respond to his son's pleas. Alastor just recognized a man standing over his his fathers lifeless body. "What do you want from me Mister?!" Alastor shouted angrily at the man, with tears in the corners of his eyes, "Leave me alone!" Then the man raised a curious looking device from his belt and pointed it level with Alastor's head. It was an odd object, a thick, short metal rod attached to a wooden handle. The man pulled the trigger and then the device gave off a resounding crack. Then Alastor knew no more.
Alastor had awoke from his dream in a cold sweat. It was still nighttime. Or maybe he had slept through an entire day. He had been having the same dream for the past few days. He was kept in a dank, wet cell at the top of one of four towers in the castle. There were at least ten guards outside of the door at all times, maybe more, but Alastor didn't know why. He had no thoughts of trying to fight, and even if he did, it's not like he could do anything to harm the men. He was a short, rather scrawny boy, with thin, fragile littles arms, bony elbows, and a pair of knobbly knees. His usually well kept, jet-black curtain of hair was messy and dirty. His hair hung like a veil over his moon-like, pale blue eyes. Life in the cell had not been particularly difficult for him as he was kept reasonably well fed (for a prisoner at least), and he was allowed a rather large pile of fairly clan, old rags.
But he was particularly sad because of the fact that no one would talk to to him, or even near him. The guards outside the cell kept up a monk-like silence and there were hardly ever any sounds from outside his ell door, except for the the changing of the guard. At first, he had try to make conversation with the guard that came by and gave him food every day, but when he never responded, Alastor gave it up as a hopeless cause. The only words he had ever word spoken were that of an important sounding man with tiredness well apparent in his voice. He said, "I don't care what the situation is, don't let him out of that cell," and those were the only words that Alastor had ever heard.
Those were the last words Alastor would hear until a few weeks later on a day he heard the same important sounding man call "Chris-muss". There was much chattering in the hallway outside of cell that day. Granted they were words that Alastor couldn't understand, for he believed them to be of a different language. The people in the castle sounded as though they were enjoying themselves today, though Alastor would not be able to. He often wondered what they did with his parents... But that that was quickly extinguished when his cell door opened, and at the usual time. "Here you go," the tall, thin man said coldly to him, handing him a wonderful plate of succulent looking foods. "What's going on?" Alastor mustered, hoping for a response. The tall man paused for a moment, as if wondering whether or not he should tell him a secret, then turned around and looked plainly into his eyes saying, "It's Christmas today," speaking awkwardly as this was obviously not his first language, "The day our savior Jesus Christ was born." "Whose that?" but Alastor's question went unanswered as the guard walked away, locking the cell door behind him. Alastor stared at his meal sullenly, and then began to eat. After he finished ravenously putting down the meal, he was content, yet sad, and he drifted off into slumber, thinking about this "Jesus Christ".
It was many hours into the night when Alastor regretfully opened his groggy eyes. There was no more noise coming from the halls, and looking through the barred windows, he noticed that the moon was high in the sky. Then he looked through the other barred window that permitted a glance to the hallway outside his door, which was filled with dim, dying candlelight. He was startled by a sudden shadow of movement outside the door, then he heard the door unlock with a clang, and it crept open. A man sidled in, and by the look on his face, he was in a drunken stupor. Alastor opened his mouth, but before he could find any words, the man put a finger to his lips and went, "Shhhh...." Alastor was panicking, What is this man going to do to me? he thought. His suspicions were confirmed when the man started working at his trousers, undoing them, grabbing Alastor roughly, using the boys soft, supple flesh for his own sick pleasure. Alastor cried himself to sleep.
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E P I S O D E 1 (CONFINEMENT)
The tale of boy experiencing overwhelming trials and tribulations, confined in the dark dank cellar of an ancient, dilapidated old castle.
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